The Note
by Sabina
Summary: Trapper didn’t forget to write Hawkeye a goodbye message... Please R&R. HT.


Title: The Note

Summary: Trapper didn't forget to write Hawkeye a goodbye message...

Author: Sabina

Pairing: Hawkeye/Trapper

Rating: PG

A/N: This takes place between the end of Season 3 and the beginning of Season 4.

Disclaimer: I don't own M*A*S*H. As much as I want to, I don't. This makes me sad. T_T;;

The Note 

"Hey, Radar!!" Trapper yelled through his mask to the corporal who rushed across the room. "You get through yet, or what?!" 

"I'm still trying!!" He called back. "It's just kinda hard when there's so much wounded in here!!"

"Good God. This had better be my last batch of wounded I _ever_ get. One day to go, and Hawk's over in Tokyo... and they're still teeming in!"

"Shut yer yap, McIntire!" Frank Shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, Frank."

Trapper did _not_ like this. This was crap. Stuck in OR with only Frank and some half-assed temp doctor (well, as half-assed as he was, he was still better than Frank) who didn't say a word. It was bad enough Henry was gone now... That was a blow to the freakin' head, but Hawkeye was in Tokyo on a three-day pass and now Trap was stuck operating with some idiot he didn't know and Frank, some idiot he _did_ know.

And he'd never see Hawkeye again. Well, _maybe _never. But _probably _never was more likely, if not never _ever_. And so this was what he was trying to get Radar to do – get a hold of his best friend so he could actually say goodbye. And it was not happening. Not with all this wounded. Even if Radar _did_ get him on the phone, what was he gonna do? Run off to the phone and leave his patient bleeding all over the table? He couldn't do that.

Then, he got a better idea. Well, not better, but if he couldn't get Hawk on the phone, it was the next best thing.

"I'll leave a note..." Trapper murmured to himself, as he plucked out a fragment of artillery from his patient's leg.

"What was that, McIntire?"

"Nothing, Frank. Just keep doing what you do best..."

Frank, caught off guard, smiled a little. "Thanks McIntire, I will."

"...Malpractice."

"I don't have to stand for that, McIntire!! _I'm_ the commanding officer here! _I'm_ the one in _charge_!"

"Yeah, and I'd like to see you and Dr. Jekyll over there operate on all these wounded by yourselves. I think that'd be _very_ entertaining."

"Oh, you won't be going anywhere until these wounded are all taken care of!"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to end your sentences with prepositions?" Trapper snapped and grumbled to himself. He wished Hawkeye were here. Who would have thought he would ever have a _quiet_ OR session?

Wondering how his send off would be, he realized his last memory wasn't going to be of a warm embrace from Hawkeye before he boards the helicopter... it would be of Ferret Face, giving him a cold salute and being glad to be rid of him. Hawk and Trap wouldn't be a "they" anymore. It would be just "him," unless he finds another "him" and they become a _new_ "they". Trapper wondered what his replacement would be like... and a splash of jealousy washed over him.

"Couldn't possibly be better looking," he said to himself.

His nurse turned to him. "Pardon?"

"Oh, uh... gimme those tweezers."

"Yes, Captain. Tweezers." She handed him the instrument.

_Hawkeye wouldn't... right?_ He thought to himself, aware that if he kept mumbling out loud, the others would probably wonder what's up. _Not that I'm exactly the poster-boy for fidelity. _He thought of his wife and daughters back home and what it would be like to hold his wife after holding Hawkeye. He loved her, but...

_Love changes?_ He guessed.

Yeah, love definitely changed. 

"Lieutenant, can you close?"

"Yes, captain."

"Alright. Now serving number fifty-six. Fifty-six? Fifty-six? No fifty-six? Then we'll move on to fifty-seven. Now serving fifty-seven." Trapper did his best to try to lighten the mood like Hawkeye always did. It just wasn't the same.

***

He could hear the little footsteps of the corporal approach the door of the Swamp. "Sir, your chopper's gonna be here in about twenty minutes." 

Trapper, who was collecting his things, slumped onto his bed. "Okay, Radar." He paused. "Did you ever get hold of him?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry," Radar said.

"Okay... Thanks, Radar."

"You're welcome, sir." Radar turned to head back to his office.

Trapper reached into his bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil and began writing:

"Hawkeye,

I wish I didn't have to leave you this stupid note. I wish I could tell you all this in person, or at the very least, over the phone. We tried so hard to contact you in Tokyo, but we couldn't. Must've had yourself a blast, right? I hope you did. Anyway, I'm leaving you this note, as I get ready to head stateside. Yep, I'm going home... by the time you read this, I'll probably be on my way to San Francisco. I got my discharge about 3 days ago, just after you left for Tokyo. I can't believe it – I'm finally going home. But... home means no more of you, and that'll be the most devastating thing, leaving you here while I go home. I wish I could be there right now to tell you all this in person. To tell you that I love you, and even though I'm going home to my wife, I'll still always love you. To kiss you, one last time on the lips, and just to... be next to you, to hold you, to hear you laugh one last time. One last time... we never got a _one last time._ And that's what I'll regret. And I wish _you_ could be here with _me_.

                                                                             I'll always love you,

                                                                                                Trapper John McIntire"

He then folded it in half and placed it on Hawkeye's empty bed.

Radar came back to The Swamp to retrieve him. "Captain McIntire?" he said. "Your chopper's here."

"Wait. Come here... I want you to give something to Hawkeye for me."

"A letter or something?"

"No, but you have to promise you'll give it to him."

"Uhh... Okay."

Trapper got to his feet, kissed the young corporal on the cheek and left The Swamp for the last time.

***

Frank walked into The Swamp and took a deep breath. They were gone. Well, one of them was anyway, and one didn't stand a chance without the other. No more "they." With McIntire gone, he was one step closer to having the entire unit as G.I. as General MacArthur himself. He'd clean up this place once and for all.

Speaking of cleaning, Frank noticed what appeared to be a discarded piece of paper sitting on Hawkeye's cot. "Ugh... what _pigs_. Couldn't even keep their quarters tidy." He scooped up the paper, crunched it into a ball and tossed it into the smouldering embers of The Swamp's pipe stove. "That'll teach him."

Be kind, please rewind. Er... review. ^___^;


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